


Sir

by lrose20



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Dubious Consent, Good Omens Kink Meme, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2020-11-24 00:14:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20898470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lrose20/pseuds/lrose20
Summary: Written for the Good Omens Kink Meme for the following prompt:All of Gabriel's inferiors call him "sir," but there's something... different about the way Aziraphale does it with his timid smiles and little blushes. All Gabriel wants is to bend the angel over and fuck the heavens out of him, and he blackmails Aziraphale into complying.





	1. Part One

One couldn't rightfully say that the Archangel Gabriel played favorites. He treated all of the angels under his jurisdiction the same- giving them bland smiles, meaningless praise, awkward claps on the shoulder-and then he fucked off for an indeterminate amount of time. No angel got special bonuses, no angel got promoted, no one was commended or allowed to slack off (at least, not to Gabriel's _knowledge_, because in fact a certain Earth bound angel had been allowed to do just that). But this did not mean that Gabriel **didn't **have a favorite. It just wasn't in the way one thought of favorites. 

Every angel who reported to Gabriel referred to him as **sir**. It was only expected, that they give him this title of respect. Normally it was a boring, stiff formality. Or a hastily shoved in addendum when someone initially forgot to say it. With one exception...Aziraphale. It was different with him. The principality always said "sir" in such a unique way. It was typically quiet, soft, nearly bordering on _shy_. For an angel that Gabriel **knew **indulged in many a human vice, it made him seem so innocent, like he had the very first time Gabriel had met him. Soft curls, blue eyes, and too soft a form that Gabriel had rarely bothered to actually comment on because the humans seemed to like soft things. 

Earth had changed Aziraphale, and not for the better. That innocence seemed to be fainter and fainter in the lower ranking angel every time he reported in. But it always seemed to come back with that one word. And that one little word made him want to bend his underling over the nearest surface, and do unspeakable things to him. 

Gabriel wasn't one for sexual activity on the whole, not even with his corporeal form. He'd tried it out once or twice because he'd thought he ought to know what humans were willing to sacrifice so much for. He hadn't understood the hype, after giving it a go himself. Oh, the physical sensations were nice, a pleasant rush of endorphins. But he could get that from exercising, which was far less messy. On the whole, he didn't ever feel much urge to engage in sex again. Except for when he was around Aziraphale and that one blessed word fell from his lips. It took every ounce of strength Gabriel had to not grab that curly hair, or those plump hips, or that pale neck, and slam him down, force the other angel where he wanted him. 

6000 years of Aziraphale being here on Earth and he'd never given in. Gabriel had given hints, smiles, touches on the arm. To which he was given nothing in return. He could have just **taken **what he wanted, but the thought of Michael and Uriel telling him off for "abusing" his authority, made that idea unreasonable. At least, that **had **been the case before Armageddon. Before Aziraphale had decided to go rogue with that..._demon_. Aziraphale had withstood hellfire, had the audacity to smile wickedly at Gabriel and the others. And that was the day Gabriel's patient and restraint **snapped. **

* * *

It had been six months since the Apocalypse that wasn't. Aziraphale was happily busy, cleaning his store. Crowley had come over and spent the night (like he often did nowadays) and had only popped out a couple hours ago. He still had his own flat, because they were still used to being together, and moving in together now after 6,000 years of dancing around each other really would have been **too **fast. 

Aziraphale was in the middle of dusting a shelf when the bell above the front door chimed. He smiled fondly. "Forget something?" he asked, shelving the book he was holding and turning around. His smile fell away when he realized it was not Crowley who had entered. "Gabriel," he declared, his voice a bit shaky, his face paling. "Um...long time, no see."

"Yeah," Gabriel replied, something in his voice setting Aziraphale on edge. "Long time. Of course, there's been plenty of instances where we've gone far longer without seeing each other, _Aziraphale_. And you **always **remembered to address me properly."

Aziraphale stared at him with open confusion. “Gabriel, I don’t know what you-“

The Archangel carried on as if Aziraphale hadn’t uttered a word. “But it seems you’ve forgotten quite a bit about how an Angel is meant to behave. You know, you **almost **had me convinced that you weren’t really an angel anymore. Standing in that Hellfire, no fear in your eyes.” He laughed, but it was not a pleasant sound. It made the hair on Aziraphale’s neck stand on end, tingles of dread running down his spine. 

Gabriel’s lip curled, even as that pleasantly blank look remained in his eyes. “That’s what gave your game away, in the end.”

”I don’t-Gabriel, I have no idea what you’re talking about. I-I warned you that day to leave me alone. You should have stayed away. I’ll tell you one last time,” he announced, a hint of a hundred eyes beginning to emerge around him.

Gabriel shook his head. “It’s a good show. But nowhere near as impressive as last time. Because that wasn’t you in the Hellfire.”

He said this so casually, like they were discussing the weather or a preferred celestial choral arrangement. Yet it did the trick anyway. The eyes disappeared and Aziraphale took an actual step backwards, away from his former superior.

”There we go, that’s the fear that should have been there,” Gabriel practically crooned, his voice sickly sweet in a way Aziraphale had never heard before. 

“Wasn’t me? I don’t-“

”You **do” **Gabriel snarled, mood abruptly shifting, fury alighting in those violet eyes. “Don’t try and lie to me, sunshine. I know you and your little demon plaything switched places. I know you’ve been fraternizing with him for ages.” 

Panic had filled Aziraphale’s pale blue eyes, and with a desperate look around, he raised his fingers and snapped.

And nothing happened. Horrified, Aziraphale snapped again. Still nothing. Comprehension flooded across his face as he looked back at Gabriel.

”You won’t be going anywhere, Aziraphale. Not until I’m satisfied. So I suggest you get on your knees, and call me _sir.” _


	2. Part Two

Aziraphale felt as if his limbs were made of stone. How had Gabriel discovered the truth? They’d been so careful. And the Archangel clearly hadn’t suspected anything at the time. His hesitation did nothing to endear himself to Gabriel, who stride forward in two long steps and gripped Aziraphale’s shoulders with inhuman strength. The angel cried out as his knees buckled from the force of it, sending him falling to the floor, in just the position Gabriel had demanded of him. 

“I’m sorry, did I say “ I suggest“? I meant to command it,” Gabriel sneered. 

“Gabriel, you _can’t-“_

_”_I don’t remember that being what I told you to call me. You always were bad at listening, weren’t you? Very well, if you have so little interest in respecting your superior...” He paused, looking away from Aziraphale, stroking his chin in fake contemplation. He held there long enough for anxiety to churn in Aziraphale’s stomach. The Archangel’s lip twitched and he looked back at the kneeling angel. “Then I’ll just need to see if a certain demon is more willing. Of course with **you **I’vejust warded your shop so you can’t use your powers. But a demon...I’d need to keep myself safe, obviously. So I’d need to bring holy water...some blessed rope, just to be safe.” He smiled thinly at Aziraphale and took the smallest step backwards toward the door.

”No!” The cry wrenched its way from Aziraphale’s throat. Gabriel simply arched an eyebrow and took another step away. “Sir,” Aziraphale hastily added on, the panic and weakness in his voice when he said that word sending sparks of electricity to Gabriel’s suddenly very interested erection. Aziraphale already knew that he would refer to Gabriel as sir or any other title as many times as the Archangel commanded it of him, to keep Crowley safe.

“Much better,” Gabriel praised, without any sincerity. He stepped close once more, and Aziraphale he had never been more aware of their size difference than in this moment, with Gabriel towering over him. 

“What- what do you **want**...sir?”

Gabriel bit back a groan. Heavens, yes, he could hear this little angel say that over and over again and never tire of it.

”You,” Gabriel told him, voice low and heated. 

“I-I beg your pardon?” 

Gabriel leaned down, a large hand reaching out and gripping Aziraphale’s throat, making him gasp.

”Oh, Azir Raphael,” the Archangel began, using Aziraphale’s full and holy name for the first time in several millennia. “You will absolutely beg me.” 

The way Gabriel’s hand clenched around his neck, what he had said, what was about to happen hit Aziraphale all at once, making him feel dizzy and unsteady. Mustering up his courage he tried one last time to stop this in its tracks. 

“But- but surely you don’t want that,” he stammered. “I mean, you’ve never wanted me like that-“

Possessive fury sprang up in those unnatural eyes, and Gabriel _squeezed_ the flesh he was holding, choking the angel beneath him. As Aziraphale struggled for air he was to used to getting to remember he didn’t actually need, Gabriel sunk into a crouch, leaning forward to hiss into his ear, “I have **always** wanted you. You have always been mine. From the day you were cast away from the wall for your carelessness, and under my charge. From the moment you addressed me properly that first day, I craved nothing so violently than to _take _you.”

At last he let go, leaving Aziraphale coughing and wheezing, eyes wide and wet. Not bothering to wait for the trembling being before him, Gabriel continued in a much more relaxed tone, “Now here’s what’s going to happen, sweetheart. You’re going to do what I tell you. _Exactly_ what I tell you. And you will say ‘yes, sir’ when I tell you to do something. Think you can handle that?”

Aziraphale had finally managed to catch his breath, but it wouldn’t do him any good. He knew the unspoken threat that hung between them still. The only thing he was going to do with this breath was exactly what Gabriel had told him.

”Yes...sir.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this because my thirst for Gabriel/Aziraphale is still SO strong. Not beta read but if you’re interested let me know. I run an rp blog too so if you want to come be the Gabriel to my Aziraphale you can find me here: eccentricgenius.tumblr.com


	3. Part Three

This time Gabriel didn’t hold back the groan that fell from his lips. “That’s right,” he praised, in a way that had it been coming from someone else (namely, _Crowley) _it would have sent shivers of delight down Aziraphale’s spine. But it wasn’t, and his stomach clenched in anticipation of what would happen next. 

The hand that had been on his throat moved up, shockingly gentle now, a thumb pressing against Aziraphale’s soft plump lips. “I know you enjoy consuming things like humans do,” Gabriel murmured, stroking lightly over the angel’s mouth. “Want a taste?" Aziraphale's brow furrowed in confusion. Did-did the Archangel want him to eat food? He knew that _could _be a part of sexual activity, but Gabriel had only ever expressed disgust at the mere mention of food. As if he could hear Aziraphale's thoughts, Gabriel snorted, pushing a nail into a particularly pliable part of the other's bottom lip. 

"Not **food**, Aziraphale. No, I have something far more appealing in mind." He reached down and yanked Aziraphale's hand upward, pressing it hard against his groin. The principality's mouth dropped open, accidentally allowing Gabriel's finger to slip into his mouth. Said angel hissed in surprise, feeling that mouth warm and wet against his skin. And soon he would have that sensation on the one place he had dreamed of, ached for, for so long. 

"You-that-I've-"

"You what?" Gabriel asked mockingly, squeezing his wrist tighter when he foolishly went to try and pull his hand away. "Were you about to tell me you've never done it before? What did I say about lying?"

Aziraphale grimaced, shaking his head. He hadn't been about to say that. 6,000 years on this Earth, of course he'd sucked someone off before (the most memorable time being with a certain queer writer...). But that had been before the Blitz. Before Crowley spared his books for no other reason than that they mattered to Aziraphale. And from then on he hadn't again. Not once. Not with anyone, in any way. It was a short time in comparison to the thousands of years that they’d danced around each other. But Aziraphale felt it was important anyway.

“I’ve never been very good at it!” he blurted out, because Gabriel’s eyes had narrowed and he needed to say **something. **Gabriellaughed, looking utterly delighted, which was very much not the reaction Aziraphale had been hoping for. 

“Practice does make perfect, doesn’t it? All the better that it will now only be _me _you practice **on**.” The shiver of dead Aziraphale had felt coursing through him earlier came surging back. Up until now he’d been under the impression that this was a one time thing, a price to pay for Gabriel’s silence. But what the Archangel had just said made him second guess that. 

A smirk curved upon Gabriel’s lips, noticing the silent realization that had hit Aziraphale, though he didn’t comment on it. Instead he continued by telling Aziraphale, “You’re going to undo my trousers. And then you’re going to use that greedy mouth of yours to pleasure me until I say otherwise.”

Aziraphale wasn’t stupid enough to have forgotten the lesson from just a few minutes ago, and despite the sickly feeling in his stomach he let out a low, reluctant, “Yes...sir.” The words felt like acid on his tongue. He reached trembling hands up and slowly undid Gabriel’s immaculately tailored trousers. Biting hard into his lip to steel his nerves, the principality reached in, only to jerk back in surprise.

He was met with another derisive snort. “Do you really think I ruin the cut of my clothing for the sake of undergarments, Aziraphale? I don’t recall telling you to stop,” he added, violet eyes flashing. Aziraphale swallowed and forced his hands to return, freeing Gabriel’s erection from where it was straining against his trousers. It was large, certainly larger than any effort of that kind that Aziraphale had ever given himself, and bigger than but a couple of humans he’d been with. From an objective point of view, it was attractive. Long, thick, but not too much so, clearly modeled off Greek Adonises and the like. And staring at it all Aziraphale could do was imagine what **Crowley **would look like erect.

‘No’ he thought to himself. He couldn’t think about Crowley right now. Not beyond the thought of keeping him safe. Feeling Gabriel’s heated, impatient gaze upon him, Aziraphale swallowed again, and slowly leaned forward. He found he had to brace himself with a hand against Gabriel’s clothed thigh, the gesture somehow more intimate than holding his cock. Fingers clenching the fabric, Aziraphale’s lips hesitantly slid onto the head. Gabriel groaned, head falling backwards. Praise the Heavens, at **last, **hehad his subordinate where he wanted him. 

“That’s right,” the Archangel hissed, a hand cupping the back of Aziraphale’s head to push him forward. The angel choked, taking more of the prick into his mouth. It was hot and hard and completely filled any space available. He whimpered ever so softly in spite of himself, overwhelmed by the scent, the taste, the press of his sodding former **boss’s** hand against his head. 

“Yes, there you go. You’ll take it all, won’t you? Greedy, sinful angel, so in love with your earthly pleasures, aren’t you?” Where the hand had just been resting against his head before, fingers now laced into his soft blonde curls, using the grip to push and pull Aziraphale how he wanted him. Then Gabriel began to thrust, unable to help himself. He'd wanted to make the other do the work, use his mouth, take it all by himself. But being seated in the warm wetness of that soft ravenous mouth was too much. He was going to take what he wanted and he was going to take it **now**. He would make Aziraphale work for it later. He had plenty of time, after all. 

Moaning in utter _delight _at that thought, Gabriel began to well and truly fuck Aziraphale's mouth, sliding back and forth, giving the angel no time to adjust. Aziraphale, for his part, had given up trying to have any semblance of control as Gabriel used him for his own pleasure. Straining against the hold in his hair only hurt, and his attention was now required to focus solely on suppressing his corporeal form's need to breathe. It took all his willpower to keep himself from choking, as Gabriel rocked against him time and again.

Sooner than he thought, which was **not **a bad thing, Aziraphale could feel the Archangel's form begin to tremble beneath his hand, as his pleasure built. 

"Yes," panted Gabriel, staring down at the sinful creature between his legs. "You're going to swallow when I reach my release. And when you're done, you're going to _thank_ me." A thrill ran through him at the utter outrage in those pale blue eyes. It was ever so rewarding, at last being allowed to control Aziraphale the way he should have been able to thousands of years ago. If only he'd known all it took was a demon for leverage.

The Messenger slowed his thrusts ever so slightly to let out a breathless laugh. “How many times have you wanted to look at me like that and not had the nerve? Pity you only get a backbone now that it won’t help you.“ The flash in Aziraphale’s eyes was enough to send him over the edge. Thrusting erratically and sharply as deep as he could get, Gabriel came, letting out a rugged shout that reverberated off the walls, sone thing holy and inhuman in the sound. 

Aziraphale’s willpower was unable to hold out any longer, and he choked as the hot bitter liquid flooded over his tongue. Gabriel groaned at the sensation, hips stuttering as his orgasm was drawn out. He held there for a long moment, enjoying the way Aziraphale strained against his hold, desperate for air the poor fool didn’t actually need. It was only when he was nearly fully soft again that he pulled out, releasing Aziraphale’s hair to instead press his hand against his throat. Wanting nothing more than to spit the golden liquid at Gabriel, the principality instead shuddered and forced himself to swallow.   


At last Gabriel pulled back altogether, leaving Aziraphale gasping and panting, falling forward so both palms were pressed against the floor. The noise of his labored breathing and shudders stretched between them until at length Gabriel chuckled coldly. “I’ll be sure to make sure dear little _Crawly _knows the reason he’s being tortured is because a lowly little angel like you was too prideful. I wonder how much he’ll want you after that, sunshine.” 


	4. Part Four

“No!” Aziraphale exclaimed, eyes wide, stretching out an arm to stop Gabriel, though the Archangel hadn’t actually moved at all. “Please! Stop this!“

Gabriel sneered at him, slapping the outstretched arm away. “You **still** think you have a say in this, don’t you? Even after swallowing your superior’s _release. _I could care less about that pathetic demon, I assure you, I would rather use my time to take my pleasure of you. To make you see the only place you belong is beneath me. But I will take your disobedience out on his filthy hide if that is what it takes.”

The sneer faded into smugness once more, as he watched Aziraphale push himself back onto just his knees. “You’ve been away from Heaven for so long. Have you **ever** witnessed holy interrogation and punishment?” At the confusion swimming in the principality’s eyes, Gabriel reached a hand down to stroke his hair in a parody of sweetness. “Oh, sweetheart, you’ve no _idea_ the damage I could do. Break the wings. Bind them with sigils. Bathe them in holy water. Brand the tongue.”

Aziraphale had begun to shake beneath the large hand on his head, terror gripping his heart. Crowley just tied up, held against his will, was terrifying enough. This was far far worse. And the cold glee in those violet eyes assured him Gabriel meant every word he was saying. 

“Please,” he pleaded weakly. “_Please, _leavehim out if this.”

Gabriel sucked in a surprised breath, staring down at Aziraphale. The other angel didn’t know what the Archangel had seen on his face, but whatever it had been, it told him something it hadn’t before.

”Oh, dear,” Gabriel purred, vicious amazement coloring his tone. Without warning his fingers wound into Aziraphale's hair, and he yanked with cruel and violent intent, forcing a cry of pain from the angel. Aziraphale was dragged forward and up, as Gabriel continued, “You really care about the demon, don’t you? And here I thought he was just a stupid little past time of yours. An indulgence, like the revolting raw fish, or pieces of cakes. But that’s not true, **is it**?”

Aziraphale shook his head desperately, though he neither confirmed nor denied what Gabriel was saying.   
“Please,” he repeated instead. “I’ll do anything you say, Gabr-_sir. _Just leave him out of it..” 

“Yes. Yes you will,” Gabriel agreed, shoving Aziraphale away, releasing his hair. “Let’s hear it then,” he commanded, looking at Aziraphale expectantly.

Hands clenching into fists so tight his perfectly manicured nails dug into his palms, Aziraphale spoke in a low voice, “Thank you...”

”For?” Gabriel prompted.

A muscle in Aziraphale’s jaw twitched, before he added, “...for using my mouth.”

His tormentor chuckled. “You are so very welcome, principality. Now then, you’re going to strip for me. **All **the way. And when you have I expect to find a sweet little quim between your legs.” 

Aziraphale shuddered, giving a short, jerky nod. “Yes...sir,” he gritted out. He forced himself to move, his limbs feeling like they were made of stone. With fingers he forced to not tremble, he yanked his bow tie off, tossing it to the side. Then he moved onto his waistcoat, trying to keep up his momentum.

Aziraphale tried to think of it like getting into cold water- the longer he prolonged it, the more painful it would be. The angel shifted out of the open coat, making a point to fold it first. Then he spoke, unable to help the flare of defiance that arose inside of him. 

“For someone who so readily looks down upon physical pleasures and sins, you seem awfully prey to them yourself,” he told the Archangel, even as he reached down to yank the buttons on his shirt open. 

“There is nothing holier than the joining of two celestial beings,” Gabriel replied smoothly. He circled around Aziraphale to stand behind him, and then bent down to his into his ear, “And if you can’t keep your silly little thoughts to yourself, I have plenty of uses for your mouth again.” 

Aziraphale stiffened at the threat, fingers clutching the sides of his shirt uselessly. He shook his head once, but it was enough answer for Gabriel, who smugly said, “That’s what I thought. Now hurry up, it’s not polite to keep your superiors waiting.” 

Ready to have this over and done with, Aziraphale’s mouth twisted into a near snarl, as he **tore **his trousers down past his hips. He had to push himself up more upright to shake them down past his knees and calves. It would have been easier to stand up, but Aziraphale knew Gabriel well enough to figure that was a bad idea. So he was instead forced to shove the trousers down awkwardly, kicking them off his feet, leaving him in only his pants.

He could feel his corporeal form’s heart pounding against his rib cage now-he knew what was expected of him next. Closing his eyes, he sucked in a sharp, shaky breath. And then he drew power down, carving it into himself, creating folds, soft curves, warm spots of moisture and sensitive flesh.

”Very good,” Gabriel purred, his large hands suddenly gripping Aziraphale’s plump hips, nails digging into the skin. Aziraphale startled at the touch, having been so concentrated on messing things up that he’d forgotten just how close the Archangel had been standing.

”But I think you’ve forgotten something.” Those hands slid further down and with one swift movement tore Aziraphale’s pants down, a leg moving between his own so they were forced to spread, giving Gabriel the room he needed to yank the underwear all the way off. Aziraphale bit back the exclamation of protest that threatened to burst out of him. He knew there was no point-if anything, it would only serve to put Crowley in more danger. Instead he allowed himself to be hauled up onto his feet and backwards several paces. Gabriel directed their steps to Aziraphale's desk chair, which he fell into, dragging the other angel with him.


End file.
